Chapter 18
“Are you there?” I ask the empty spare bedroom.
I get no response. Again.
A week ago, a recording started through the ear device. At first, I thought it was a response, that finally they were talking with me, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. The intonation was wrong. The voice was the same as before, but this time it was void of emotion.
And that’s what I crave.
Instead, I was greeted with nothing more than degradation by a mechanical voice that had no interaction with me whatsoever.
“Slut. Bitch. Dirty. Disgusting.”
It’d just repeat those words nonstop.
I didn’t mind it at first, but the last few days I haven’t worn the ear device as often.
I don’t want just that. I want the teasing and the taunting, the interaction between BandAid42 and me.
I want to know what I should be doing based on what they want.
I want them to fulfill my desires, not just annoy me.
When I get no response this time, I slide into the chair at the desk and turn on my computer. Maybe it’s time that I dive deeper down this rabbit hole than I’ve gone before. I know BandAid42 told me not to before, but if they’re going to ignore me, it’s this or I give up.
I’m not ready to do that.
Not yet, anyway.
The one connection I thought we had has vanished.
And I need it back. Because without it, I’m drowning in a sea of loneliness.
Nothing has made that more obvious than finding BandAid42 and then having them ripped away from me.
Brushing my thumb across my bottom lip, I turn on my computer and don’t go directly to the website where BandAid42 and I first connected.
I’m going to see if I can find them on any other website first.
I must spend at least an hour searching, and I can’t find any sign of BandAid42 anywhere else.
Whoever this person is, it’s going to take me a lot longer to dig into their background.
I don’t for a second believe there isn’t a trail anywhere, but given what I know of them, they likely covered that trail really well, and I’ll have to dive back a decade to find a sign of them somewhere.
Brushing my fingers through my hair, I pause.
The degrading recording has stopped.
When did that happen?
I look around the room and still. Every time I’ve picked up the device in the last week, this has been playing on repeat. Like constantly, twenty-four-seven. And I know because the times I’ve picked it up have been random, whether it’s during the day or the middle of the night. It’s never stopped.
But now it’s just silent.
My breath sounds so loud to my ears. I fold my hands in my lap and part my lips to ask another question, but what should I even say? Because any time I’ve tried to get their attention before, it’s failed.
“Are you here?” I ask again, my voice breathy. I hate this silence. I need it to be broken in order to end this loneliness that’s consumed me lately. I need it to end. I can’t stand it anymore. I didn’t realize how alone I was until now, just how isolated I allowed myself to become.
And all for what?
A marriage neither one of us likes?
“I miss you…” I whisper, words barely leaving my lips. I feel so silly saying it, as if I’m confessing something that will tear me apart piece by piece. Yet it’s the truth, and I can’t deny myself from saying it. “I’m so alone without you.”
And still, there’s silence.
Tears prickle my eyes, the loneliness becoming so much that I know it’ll consume me.
I’ve been in this place before, and it was next to impossible to drag myself out of it.
Although now that I think about it, I’m not sure I did.
Maybe all I managed to do was accept that this is where I belong in order to have Reik and his family in my life.
I don’t want that anymore.
I want someone who cares for me, about me, who loves me.
Not the person I put on to satisfy them, to fulfill their needs, but the person I am under everything.
The one who’s smart, who likes technology even though it’s traditionally not a woman’s thing.
I snort at that thought. Whoever made up the ridiculous rules of society and culture should really have never been given the power to do so.
“I’ll figure it out. Watch me.” It’s my last-ditch effort to keep BandAid42’s attention, to get them to still be looking at the cameras and watching my every move, because the thrill of knowing I’m being stalked is still what’s keeping me going.
It’s the only thing I have.
Knowing that this is what I want every day of my life from here on out.
Not the boring life I allowed myself to be chained to, but an exciting one filled with desire and arousal, filled with intelligence and creativity.
A life where I’m not shut down every five seconds but lifted up and lauded for being exactly who I am.
Smart.
Intelligent.
Beautiful.
And I found that with BandAid42, without ever having met them or seen them or actually had an in-depth conversation beyond sexual desires. I found a place where I can wholly be me without fear of repercussions—at least none that I don’t intentionally deserve.
But the last few weeks without any of that?
I shiver.
I can’t do this any longer.
I need to know who BandAid42 is, and I’m not going to stop until I get some answers.